


Phantom Lady

by MillicentCordelia



Category: Batman (Comics), Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Friends to Lovers (Baby Steps), Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-15
Updated: 2015-03-15
Packaged: 2018-03-17 22:40:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3546383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MillicentCordelia/pseuds/MillicentCordelia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When it comes to relationships. Jim Gordon is an idiot of such epic proportions- he has the Midas Touch in reverse. Everything he touches turns to crap. This is a short story about how even someone as clueless as Jim occasionally gets it right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Phantom Lady

Jim walked into the station like he owned the place. It was going to be a great day; he could feel it. He kept replaying the memory of how beaten Commissioner Loeb had looked when he put the screws to him. God, he despised that scum sucking toad-it felt so good to get over on him. 

Almost as good as if his old man were still alive to see it.

The secretaries, the office workers, the other cops- they looked at Jim differently now; with respect, maybe even a little awe. Jim was doing what everyone said couldn’t be done-going up against the big guys, and coming out on top. It felt good.

His mood sagged a little when he saw Lee standing by his desk.

“Good Morning, Detective.” Her face was an expressionless mask. “You didn’t call last night. Did you forget you were coming over for dinner? I sat your plate out on the fire escape for the neighborhood cats.”

Aw, shit. He’d gone out drinking with Harvey, celebrating Loeb’s endorsement that assured Jim he’d be the new president of the police union. “Uh, was that last night? I thought it was tonight, I guess I got my days mixed up.” He rubbed the back of his neck and looked sheepish. “I’m really sorry, Lee.”

“So did you and Barbara have a lovely evening? Don’t bother lying. I know you’ve been seeing her.”

“I haven’t seen Barbara since she walked out on me. Where do you get this stuff from?” Now it was Jim’s turn to get angry.

“You can fool everyone else, but I see right through you. I know exactly what you’re doing.” She turned and walked away so quickly, she nearly ran into Harvey.

“Looks like trouble in paradise.” Harvey gave Jim that ‘Don’t be a douchebag, gimme the dirty details’ look.

“It’s nothing. She’ll get over it, she’s just been moody lately.” And not nearly so attractive as she’d once been, but Jim didn’t mention that. 

“ Uh-huh. Not to change the subject, but...” Harvey lowered his voice. “The couple that was guarding Loeb’s daughter. A car the make and model of theirs just got pulled out of the river. No license plates. VIN number removed.”

Jim swallowed nervously. “ You think Falcone took care of them?”

“Him or Cobblepot, and we better hope it was bird-boy or all our asses may be in a sling. Talk to him. We need to know.”

Jim settled down to a stack of paperwork on his desk. He’d figured the couple had left town, knowing how Falcone punished those who failed him. After a few minutes, he dialed Oswald, whose number was now stored in his phone.

“James! To what do I owe the unexpected pleasure of this call?” Jim didn’t miss the sarcastic edge in Oswald’s voice.

“I need to talk with you-about our road trip.”

“Of course. Drop by the club this evening, at your convenience. Is that all? ” Silence.

“Um, yeah, thanks,” Jim muttered. Dead air ensued.

The Penguin had been different, ever since Jim had refused his invitation to the club’s opening. Upon reflection, he had been bad-tempered with Oswald-and had come to regret it, when he decided to go back to him for help. There were no more free favors in the name of friendship.

“Well?” Harvey queried.

“I’m going by the club tonight.”

“You know, you might try being nicer to the little reptile. We all know how he feels about you; it wouldn’t kill you to flirt with him. I ain’t sayin’ you should suck his dick; just bat those long eyelashes of yours. In case you need some more favors.”

“Thanks, you just made my skin crawl.” Jim gave Harvey a sour look and returned to his paperwork. 

“You didn’t seem to mind talking with him the other night, on the way back to Gotham.”

“I’m busy, Harvey.”

“Whatever.” 

At lunchtime, Jim wandered down to the morgue to see if he could make up with Lee, but she’d already left. When he and Harvey returned from a nearby greasy spoon, Sarah Essen stopped them before they could return to their desks. “Can I see both of you in my office?” She looked worried.

Sitting in Sarah’s office was a pleasant looking woman of perhaps forty, who projected an air of dignity and intelligence. She was dressed conservatively, in an expensive looking gray suit, her black hair twisted into a tasteful chignon. Jim assumed she was a lawyer. Sarah shut the door and gestured to Jim and Harvey. “Doctor, this is Detective Gordon and Detective Bullock.”

The woman stood up. “So pleased to meet you. I’m Dr. Leslie Maurin Thompkins. I was a close friend of Thomas and Martha Wayne.”

Jim looked confused. “Are you related to Lee Thompkins, our medical examiner?”

“No,” Sarah interrupted. “Maybe you’d better sit down, Jim. Lee Thompkins doesn’t exist; there is no such person.”

_________________

 

Barbara Kean glared impatiently at the “Out of Order” sign on the elevator outside the door to her condo. Murphy’s Law; she was already late for a meeting at the gallery.

“It never fails, when you’re in a hurry, right?” The voice belonged to a striking blonde woman, who smiled while looking at her watch. 

Barbara smiled back. “No, of course not.” They walked together to the stairwell. 

When they stood at the top of the landing, the blonde spoke. “You’re Barbara Kean, aren’t you?” 

“Yes, do I know you?”

“You’re about to.” With that, she shoved Barbara; who toppled off her high heels and fell down two flights of stairs.

She looked down the stairwell at Barbara’s unconscious form. She descended the stairs, then felt for a pulse; frowned when she discovered Barbara was still alive. She reached in her purse just as a security guard came through the closest door. 

“I thought I heard something; is she conscious? I’ll call 911.” He started to make the call, when a bullet tore through his chest. He looked startled before he crumpled to the ground. 

“Don’t bother,” the Blonde said pleasantly. Hearing voices in the hallway, she sighed and put the gun back in her purse. She quickly made her way to the street level, exited the building and was two blocks away when she heard the first sirens. Ducking into an alley, she flung the blond wig, her sunglasses, and her raincoat into a dumpster. When she emerged, she looked nothing like the woman who’d just committed one murder and attempted another.

She’d have to finish dealing with Barbara later. 

_______________

Harvey was trying to pay careful attention to everything Captain Essen said, since Jim looked like he might have to run from the room at any minute to puke his guts out. 

“Her real name is Kathy Moffat. She was one of Dr. Thompkins’ students at Gotham University a few years ago.” Sarah was reading from a file the Baltimore PD had faxed her. “She attended med school in Baltimore, but washed out-she was brilliant, but unstable, according to the faculty. Get this: she was a suspect in two murders. The first one was her roommate, a young woman who vanished shortly after she became engaged; no body was ever found, so there was no case. The second was Moffat’s ex-boyfriend, he was poisoned; nothing but dead ends, no charges were ever brought against anyone.”

Sarah stepped outside the office to talk to a uniformed cop who’d been trying to get her attention.

“I’d moved to New York City about a year before the Waynes were killed.” Dr. Thompkins looked at Jim. “ I returned recently, to stay with Bruce while Alfred’s in the hospital. While we were visiting Alfred this morning, a former colleague of mine said she’d heard about my new job as medical examiner, and offered her congratulations. That’s when I called Captain Essen.” 

Harvey leaned forward. “Forgive me for pointing out the obvious, Doc, but wasn’t it stupid of her to use your name? Why not just make up a name?”

“She isn’t rational. Kathy considered me her mentor; it makes sense she chose my name when she used forged documents to get that job at Arkham. She becomes obsessed with anyone close to her. Had she been behaving strangely lately?”

“Yes.” Jim was looking more nauseous by the minute. “She couldn’t stand not getting her way; she’d pout, sulk, explode. She was moody: hot one minute, cold the next. And she was irrationally jealous. But I didn’t have any idea she was crazy.” 

Sarah returned, and put her hand on Jim’s shoulder. “Barbara’s in the hospital. Minor concussion, sprained ankle, broken wrist. A woman pushed her down a flight of stairs. One of the security guards at Barbara’s building wasn’t so lucky-someone shot him when he blundered into the stairwell; he’s dead. “

Harvey gave a low whistle. “You think it was Moffat?”

Sarah nodded. “Maybe. Go with Jim to the hospital; see what Barbara has to say. If we’re lucky, Moffat’ll come back here. “ 

On the way out of the building, Jim’s phone buzzed. “Hi, Sweetheart.” It was Lee. Jim motioned to Harvey, who ran back inside. With any luck, they’d be able to track her cell phone. 

“I looked for you at lunch. Ended up having ‘swill of the day’ with Harvey. Listen, I wanted to say again how sorry I am about last night.” Jim tried to keep his voice neutral.

“Cut the bullshit, Jim. I came back to the precinct, and saw Dr. Thompkins’ car parked on the street. Just wanted to let you know-I so enjoyed meeting Barbara. You haven’t seen the last of me, and neither has she.” She hung up.

 

______________________________

 

“Honestly, I’m fine. You don’t have to sit here looking like a sad hound dog; you’re not exactly cheering me up anyway. “ Barbara stretched and yawned. ‘ They gave me stuff to make me sleepy. Go home.” She’d been treated at the emergency room and released; and was now propped up on a mountain of decorative pillows, in her own bed. A maid left with a tray of food that had barely been nibbled at.

“This is all my fault.” 

“Oh, Jim. You’re terrible about taking the blame for what’s not your fault, and ignoring the things that are. There’s no way you could have known Lee was insane.”

“Maybe. Maybe I should have been more observant.”

“The irony is, Lee had nothing to be jealous of. I’ve been wanting to talk with you- to clear the air: but not because I wanted us to get back together. We’d just be setting ourselves up for more misery.”

“I was that awful of a boyfriend.” Jim’s voice was small; it sounded like a question.

“You’re a good person, when it comes to wanting to save humanity,” Barbara said gently. “But you don’t understand yourself, or the others around you very well. And you’re a complete idiot when it comes to the people who care the most about you. I still want to be your friend.” She reached for his hand and squeezed it. “But I’ve moved on. You should, too.”

“Yeah, I know.” Jim hesitated. “You were my “back burner” person.”

“Your what?” 

“My college roommate’s phrase for the person you have unfinished business with. Maybe an ex, maybe a person who was a “near miss” that you almost got together with. So you keep this person on the “back burner” in your mind. You comfort yourself-tell yourself that if your current romance goes down in flames, you can always give it a try with your “back burner” person. Except most of the time, when you finally get around to it- that person’s gone. “

Barbara nodded. “I get it. My advice? If you’ve got anyone else on the back burner, maybe you should do some soul searching-before it’s too late.”

Harvey was waiting in the living room of the luxurious apartment where Jim had once lived. “A uniform’s gonna stay here, in case Moffat shows up, and I’m going with you to the club. We still gotta check up on that, ah, little problem.”

“It’d be better to go after hours-how many witnesses do you want seeing us coming and going right now? Besides, I need to go home and get a couple hours sleep.” Jim sounded as worn out as he looked. 

“Fine, but I’m coming with you. We don’t want psycho-babe showin’ up while you’re nappin’. If she kills you, I’ll have to break in a new partner, an’ I’m gettin’ too old for that shit.”

As they were leaving, Renee Montoya arrived. 

___________________

 

Jim felt low enough to march under a door carrying a flag. Lee was a lunatic. Barbara had called him an idiot. At this rate, he expected Oswald would spit on him and then stab him. 

Harvey, at least, was consistent. While Jim slept, he’d cleaned out the fridge by consuming all the leftover take-out that was still edible, and then guzzling the last of the beer. Jim’s fridge now contained nothing but cobwebs and memories. 

They pulled up outside the club around midnight. The staff was trickling out the front door, as Harvey parked across the street. 

Harvey belched. “I’ll wait here and keep an eye out for Moffat. Cobblepot’ll open up to you faster if I’m not around. No pun intended.” 

“Fuck you.” Jim looked over his shoulder several times, despite himself, before entering the club. It occurred to Jim that if Oswald could make a go of the club, he’d have a stab at becoming one of Gotham’s “respectable citizens”. Miraculously, Oswald had no criminal record. No one could prove his ties to his “patron”, Don Falcone. He had his secrets, of course-much like many of Gotham’s other “respectable citizens.” The mayor, for example; or Commissioner Loeb.

Or the soon to be president of the police union. 

 

The place seemed deserted, until he spotted Oswald at the bar. He was going over a stack of receipts with a very young, very good-looking man- a redhead with striking green eyes. Jim’s impression was that he was one of those guys who spent all his free time at the gym; and that he wasn’t missing a single opportunity to touch Oswald, or laugh at his jokes. 

Jim was shocked to experience a pang of what could only be jealousy. 

“Detective Gordon!” Oswald turned to the redhead. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Eric.”

Eric wrinkled his nose and gave Jim a withering look on his way out. 

Jim sat at the bar. “Was that your bartender?”

“Who, Eric? Yes, for now, although I think his true mission in life is to find himself a sugar daddy. He’s a tad too expensive for my pocketbook, I’m afraid. Why, are you interested? I can give you his number.” 

“I’m interested in a drink. Bourbon, on the rocks.”

Oswald poured two drinks, and handed Jim one, with a flourish. “So what brings you here, James? I’m sure you didn’t drop by to discuss my love life.”

“Harvey told me the car that belonged to that old couple got pulled out of the river. I don’t guess you’d know what happened to them.”

“They’re dead,” Oswald said crisply. “They never got a chance to go to Falcone. Anything else?”

Jim exhaled. “If it weren’t for me, you’d never even have known those people existed. I got everything I wanted, and you took the risks- did the dirty work and got nothing for yourself.”

“That’s neither new nor unusual.” Oswald’s expression was unreadable. “Unless I’ve missed something.”

“ I doubt you’ve missed what a selfish prick I’ve been; but if there’s any satisfaction in it for you, Karma’s caught up with me. The woman I’ve been dating, the new medical examiner, is a serial killer; she tried to murder Barbara today; and Barbara read me the riot act about what an idiot I am.”

Jim looked so completely miserable; Oswald had to stop himself from reaching for Jim’s hand. “Let me get you another drink; and no, I find no satisfaction in your misfortunes. I’m sorry you’ve had such a terrible time.”

Jim studied his drink, as if it held answers rather than bourbon. If he didn’t say it now he was never going to say it. “ I really hurt your feelings, about that invitation to the club opening, didn’t I? I’m bad with apologies...........I’m sorry I was an asshole.”

“Listen, it’s...fine. I just can’t....” Oswald looked away. “I just can’t go on throwing myself at you, and sitting in some corner crying because you don’t want me.” Oswald tossed back the rest of his drink. “You know that favor I said you’d owe me? I was going to ask you to go to New York with me some weekend; go sight seeing. Take in a show, go to dinner. How’s that for sad? I was going to blackmail you into spending time with me. It’s pathetic. I need to move on.”

The one person that had always been delighted to see Jim, no matter what, was talking about moving on. Jim had thought he couldn’t feel any worse; he was wrong. 

Of course when he needed it most, Jim’s brain shut down, and he panicked. “I don’t know what to say.”

“How about good night?” Oswald managed to smile and look like he was about to burst into tears, at the same time. 

“Sure. Thanks for the drink.” Jim headed for the door. The moment he was outside, he stopped. ‘I fucked up again, and now I’m going to lose him,’ he thought, ‘I can’t leave things like this.’ He started to go back inside, but something caught his eye.

He saw Harvey, standing by a lamppost. Then he realized that Harvey’s arms were handcuffed behind his back, anchoring him to the post, and someone had stuffed a rag in his mouth. 

Lee stepped out of the shadows.

“I should have known I’d find you here.” Lee stood facing Jim, with a gun in her hand. “Keep your hands where I can see them, darling.”

“What do you want, Lee?” 

“Oh, not much. World peace. A winning lottery ticket. Your body on a slab in the morgue. Maybe I just wanted to find out why you have all that guy on guy porn downloaded on your laptop.”

“I’ll leave with you, Lee. This doesn’t involve anyone else.” 

“Worried about poor Harvey, here? Or is it someone else you’re worried about? Your boyfriend perhaps?” 

Jim smiled-persuasively, he hoped. “Let’s go somewhere private, and talk about it.” 

At that moment, Oswald walked out the club’s front door-and nearly stumbled into Jim. 

“Here’s your little playmate, now. How adorable you are together!” Lee’s eyes glittered.

Jim took a step towards her.

“Isn’t this touching!” Her voice dripped venom. “You’d do anything to protect him, wouldn’t you? Admit it, you were screwing him the whole time we were dating! You weren’t working late all those nights, you just couldn’t keep your hands off this Emo slut’s behind!”

To the end of his days, Jim could never figure out exactly how it happened; but somehow, Oswald managed to throw himself in front of Jim, just as Lee pulled the trigger. The bullet caught him in the chest. 

Before Jim could react, another shot rang out. Lee stood staring at nothing for a moment, before collapsing on the sidewalk; Gabe had come up behind her, and shot her in the back of the head. 

Oswald was unconscious. Jim applied pressure to the wound, while Gabe called for an ambulance. 

It seemed to Jim that several lifetimes passed before it finally got there.

_______________

Jim sat in a chair next to the hospital bed where Oswald was hooked up to a dozen different machines and contraptions. The room was dark, save for the displays and blinking lights.

He’d lost a lot of blood, but the bullet had missed every vital organ. 

Jim had told Harvey to go home. Dr. Thompkins had stopped in briefly, to tell Jim how sorry she was. 

Gabe sat in a corner, his bulk stuffed into the largest chair they could find. He still looked like someone crammed into a chair stolen from a doll’s house. Oswald, on the other hand, looked like a child lost in a bed sized for a giant. Jim couldn’t ever remember him looking so small. 

Jim spoke in a monotone. “Go get some rest, Gabe. I’m not leaving.”

“I can stay, Detective Gordon.”

“I’m not leaving.” Jim repeated. 

Gabe stirred. “Ok. There’s a couple’a things I think I oughta tell you.”

Jim had never heard Gabe say more than a few syllables at a time.

The big man continued. “You know when Don Falcone was gonna kill you? The Boss called in every favor Falcone owed him, in exchange for letting you live. The other thing-is, the Boss told me-that if you was ever in danger, I was to do anything I could to save your life. An’ that came before everything else, him included. I thought you’d wanna know.”

Gabe plodded out of the room. 

Jim took Oswald’s hand, held it in both of his own. “You’re going to be all right. You have to be. Things are going to be different. I’m going to be different. I’m so sorry for being an idiot, if you’ll just please be all right; give me a second chance, and let me show you how different I can be...” He leaned over the wounded man; gently kissed him on the cheek, and stroked his hair. 

Oswald stirred. 

“James.” Oswald’s eyes were half open, and he was smiling. “If I promise to give you a second chance, will you kiss me again?” 

Jim brushed his lips over Oswald’s. “Anything you want, from now on. Anything at all.”

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as an exploration of what might happen if the "real" Dr. Leslie Thompkins (from the comics) showed up and displaced the "imposter" on the show. It snowballed into a tale about Jim's difficulties in dealing with the attraction he feels for Oswald. 
> 
> Kathy Moffat is the name of a murderous psycho in the 1947 Film Noir "Out of the Past"; making the name perfect for Lee's real identity.
> 
> "Phantom Lady" is a 1944 Film Noir directed by Robert Siodmak, starring Ella Raines as a woman who'll stop at nothing to save the man she loves from being executed for a murder he didn't commit, even though he sees her as "just a friend". Her willingness to do anything for love, even in the face of her beloved's indifference, reminds me of Oswald.
> 
> This takes place after episode 18, "Everyone Has a Cobblepot"


End file.
